Not Alone
by Elephant Travels
Summary: When Jensen came to London she was alone and on a mission but everything changes when she meets a mysterious detective. Suddenly her mission is linked with his and her future seems to be linked to his too only she's not entirely sure he knows this, or even wants to know this.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: Hey readers :) I'm still really new to all of this, I haven't written much and I'm not sure whether this will work as a story so I would really appreciate some feedback as to whether I should carry on. Basically would you like me to continue?**

It had been several years since everything in my life had changed. One day had destroyed everything. My family gone. My life gone and just like that I disappeared. I spent four years travelling across the globe looking for some kind of solace and relief but I found none. I learnt new languages became an expert at reading body language and become well trained in several methods of self defence and weaponry but I found no real peace. That changed when I came home. I arrived back in London and found a basement flat to rent fairly cheaply as it had a bit of damp but seeing as I had lived in much worse conditions I didn't mind and the land lady seemed lovely and the only other flat in the building was occupied by a guy called Sherlock Holmes who was not one for social interaction himself which was good for me as it meant no all night parties.

Everything changed when I met him, as soon as I saw him I was in love with him. It sounds so stupid doesn't it. I had spent years running away from the pain that love had caused and as soon as I come home I find it quite literally on my doorstep. However I had trained myself to be able to lock everything away and I did. Though my heart simultaneously ached for him and felt whole for the first time in years I locked everything away and refused to feel anything.

"Hello," I said the first time I saw him and watched as he tried to analyse me, giving me the same appraising look that I give every new person I meet.

"How many years?" he asks eventually looking confused and I almost want to laugh as I realise that he can't read me.

"Don't worry it will just be because you haven't slept in, what is it now… two days I would say," I reply quietly and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Who are you?" he asks suspiciously and I sigh suddenly unable to help it.

"I am no one, but you don't need to worry I am not a threat to anyone unless they try to attack me," I say and he stares at me again for a long time in silence.

"You haven't eaten in at least twenty four hours, come on I'll buy you breakfast," he says eventually and after a further minute of silence I nod slightly and we exit the building. "I'm Sherlock by the way," he says a while later as we stroll down the road.

"Jensen," I reply quietly, "why are people staring?" I ask then moving closer to him unconsciously to try and get away from the attention.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes he says by way of explanation," but when I stare blankly at him he suddenly stops and turns to me, "the worlds only consulting detective," I shrug at him as if to say, what is that? and he smirks a little, "the police consult me when they can't solve a crime which is nearly always," he explains.

"Oh, so you're famous then?" I ask by way of asking about the staring.

"In a way, I faked my own death three years ago and then reappeared last year, it was pretty big news,"

"Oh," I say again.

"You confuse me… I… I can't read you," he says a while later when we are sitting in a quiet cafe drinking coffee and I am picking at a sticky bun of some description.

"I became an expert at hiding myself, in every way," I say in almost a whisper,

"How did you know I hadn't slept?"

"I also became an expert at reading others," I say and he looks curious,

"That woman," he says suddenly indicating a woman on the other side of the cafe and I stare at her for a second before looking back at him.

"Polish originally, although she has lived here for at least twenty years, divorced two… no three times, lives alone with a small dog, probably a jack russell," I say and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Impressive, although you missed the fact that she has recently embarked on a new affair which looks set to become husband number four and that she has a gambling problem," he smirks and I smile back slightly.

"Well I never claimed to be perfect," I say quietly,

"What's your job? What do you do?" he asks and I look up from my bun then.

"I'm… I was a doctor," I say quietly and he smiles even more brightly, "what?" I ask.

"I think I have the perfect solution for you," he says standing abruptly.

"What makes you think I need a solution to anything?" I ask raising an eyebrow at him before draining my cup and standing too.

"You are jobless and alone in the world," he says and I fight a wince as he says it, "my best friend has just had a baby with his wife and is no longer as readily available to help me with cases and I have been called to the morgue this morning to check out a body,"

"And you want me to be your assistant?" I say skeptically.

"Normally I would say yes but I think you are too clever for that, how about partner?" he smiles and I feel myself wanting to smile for the first time.

"Okay," I say eventually and he claps his hands before spinning towards the road and hailing a cab.

"Brilliant. Oh and while we're on the topic of solutions that basement flat is terrible I have an upstairs room available that would be much more suitable, I'll inform Mrs Hudson later that you'll be moving up there," he says and I stare at him in shock before conceding as I read quickly that he will not change his mind.

"Sherlock over here this is the third one in three weeks can you… oh who's this?"

"Lestrade, Jensen, Jensen, this is Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock says before swooping over the body,

"Nice to meet you," he says looking a little shell shocked which makes me want to laugh as I look him over.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jensen what do you think?" Sherlock asks me after he has spent a few minutes examining the body on the table in front of me.

"About the body or the inspector?" I ask back and he stares at me for a moment,

"The body of course what would possible interest you about the Inspector?" He says looking nonplussed.

"I see now where you and I differ then," I shrug as I step forward and examine the body myself before glancing up at the two men who are staring at me still.

"I find the living infinitely more interesting than the dead," I offer before moving on, "Whoever did this is clever, they have been able to keep the victim alive for I would say, six days, whilst torturing them and yet has finished them off quickly, execution style. I would say you're looking for a trained assassin Inspector one who is also well versed in information extraction and by the looks of these marks on the ankles and the shoulders… help me turn him… yes you're looking for someone with a military background in the Ukraine," I finish and they both look stunned, although I get the feeling that Sherlock is stunned for a different reason entirely as I know full well he would have deduced all of that in seconds.

"What do you mean the living are more interesting than the dead?" he asks eventually,

"Just what I said they are,"

"But if you paid less attention to the trivial matters in living, boring peoples minds you may have picked up on the fingers, he has been stripped of his identity on purpose, whoever did this did not want us finding out who it is," he exclaims somewhat triumphantly.

"Ah yes but if you paid more attention to the living you may have picked up on the fact that his clothing style is clearly new and uncomfortable to him, his hair despite being messed from days of being held hostage and tortured still holds traces of gel and his underwear is new, this man was trying to impress someone. He was out on a date the night he went missing and either was kidnapped on the way to or from said date or more likely, as a date would probably have reported something, he was lured by his date so either our killer is a woman or he has a partner," I say and smirk as the Inspector laughs out loud.

"Oh I like her," he chuckles slapping Sherlock on the back and striding out to make some calls leaving us alone.

"Right well," Sherlock says before turning and following Lestrade out of the door leaving me to hurry after him.

By the time I reach the street Sherlock is long gone and I feel a smirk spread across my face slightly at the same time as a tiny bit of guilt shoots through me as I realise I have just shown him up in front of his friend… colleague… acquaintance? I get the impression that Sherlock is not the kind of man to surround himself in friends although I'm hardly one to talk am I? I have no-one maybe that is another area in which we differ from one another. He does have people, he has spoken about them and that is more than me. Slowly I make my way back to Baker Street and am no nearer working him out by the time I get home and by the sound of the violin drifting down the stairway as I enter the building he is also deep in thought about something.

"So when will the next one be?" he asks as soon as I walk through the door and after a seconds pause I work out what he is asking me.

"I don't know, it depends in the cooling off period and the motive, it could be a one off couldn't it?"

"You know as well as I do that someone who kills with that precision will kill again and keep killing until they are caught," he says dropping his arm and letting the violin hang in one hand as he points the bow towards me. "Your room is up the stairs there," he adds and nodding I leave him and quickly ascend to my room to get my thoughts together.

Long into he night I hear him moving around the rooms downstairs and I am beginning to think he doesn't sleep either when it eventually goes silent. I wait for an hour or so, listening for any movement and when I don't I turn over in my bed and attempt to sleep myself. It must be three in the morning when I give up and sighing I eventually give up trying and pulling on my clothes, shoes and coat decide to go out for a walk instead.

"Where are you going?" he asks as I creep downstairs very nearly making me jump and let out a shriek of fright. Luckily for me though very few things in my life these days frightens me and so I just turn to the figure sitting in the dark.

"Going for a walk to clear my head," I answer quietly not sure why I am whispering but the silence of the night always made me feel like I should be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the world.

"So you don't sleep on a case either?" he asks, although it is more of a statement so assured is he in his ability to read anyone he meets.

"I am not so sure there is a case, the person who committed that murder is a professional we both know that, he may well… probably does commit murder for hire he may well have moved on by now," I reply and he shakes his head.

"I don't think you should be going out alone," he says now changing tact slightly and I grin at him a little.

"I think I can handle myself Mr Holmes," I smirk and he raises an eyebrow at me before nodding slightly as if to say don't say I didn't warn you and turns away from me again as I exit silently through the door and out onto the street.

An hour later and I pull my coat more tightly around me as I wander aimlessly through the streets not paying any attention to where I am going when I hear a shout and looking up feel my heart plummet a little. The alleyway I have found myself in is small and closed off from the streets and the only building around look to be either business places or completely derelict. The thing that worried me though were the eight men that were quickly surrounding me.

"Look what we have here," one of them growls and I gulp inwardly before steeling myself and my resolve I was trained for this. Granted I had never taken on so many opponents alone before but I am sure… almost sure I can take them.

"You're making a mistake guys, I'm not the girl you want to be picking on," I warn but they just laugh stepping ever closer, so close that a second later I can feel the breath of one of them on the back of my neck and I have to fight the urge to shiver.

"Not sure you're in any position to be the one dishing out warnings luv," another snarls and instead of responding I glance around, my brain working frantically to come up with a plan. Unfortunately before I can come up with one with a chance of escape they attack. Punch to my gut winds me instantly and I lash out knowing that I needed to try and stay upright if I wanted to stay alive and hope to gain the upper hand. There are shouts and grunts as my hits and kicks hit their marks and the men quickly realise that they have bitten off more than they can chew with me and several of them seem to abandon their plan and run off. The would be leader though, he was another story, by this time I was feeling distinctly woozy which is probably due to the number of blows I have taken to my face and head and the loss of blood. I could already see it pooling on the floor around me and the man in front of seemed to getting angrier,

"Ready to give up yet luv?" He spits at me after I attempt another punch which is deflected,

"Never," I wheeze realising as I do so that I have at least two cracked ribs, he launches at me again and I do my best I know that I manage to break his jaw as I hear his muffled cry and feel the bone breaking as my punch connects but thats the last thing I do hear or feel as my head collides with the wall and blackness quickly descends over me.

The fog of darkness is slow to lift its veil and even after I have opened my eyes dark spots dance across my vision for a long time. The cold feels as though it has seeped into my bones and pain is radiating through me so sharply I can barely breathe every movement dragging a harsh gasp of agony from me. The sky is still dark so I know I can only have been unconscious for an hour or so at maximum and so with one last moment to get myself together I drag myself to my feet unable to stop the whimper that escapes me as I lean against the wall my breathing harsh and laboured even to my own ears. I knew I had to get back to Baker street and quickly but I also felt the humiliation of knowing he had been right, the anger at being beaten and it made tears sting in my eyes which just made me more angry so blinking them away I move.

It takes me almost an hour to stumble slowly back to my new home and by the time I reach the door I can barely breath at all for the pain that pulsed through me and pushing through the door it is all I can do to fall to my knees swaying on the spot for a second those black spots dancing across my vision again as I look up into the startled eyes of Sherlock Holmes, I think that I spend perhaps a second or two thinking about the fact that I should save that image away as I am not sure it is too often that he looks startled before unconsciousness washes over me once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up I am aware first of two hushed voices coming from somewhere near my feet and the fact that I could tell I wasn't in a hospital bed. Slowly, I begin to open my eyes and attempt to move a little a tiny groan of pain escaping me as I do so and a rustling is heard as the voices immediately cease. Gathering my senses I am immediately aware that I may be in danger forgetting for a minute that I had made it home and I instantly try to sit up throwing my hands up to attack whoever is nearest me only to have my wrists caught and stilled and a low baritone near my head begin to speak.

"Be still Jenson you will only damage yourself further," I recognise the voice at once and calm down before I have even fully focused on where I am.

"Sorry, reflex," I mumble sinking back into the mattress and letting the pain ebb away slightly before looking up at Sherlock and the shorter, stocky man beside him.

"This is my friend Dr Watson," Sherlock explains seeing my questioning look and I nod a little before the other man speaks up even as he is checking me over and getting more bandage out of his kit.

"John," he says and I smile a little at him, wary but deciding to trust him seeing as he is clearly trusted by Sherlock.

"Jenson," I offer back, "I suppose I have you to thank for patching me up," I add and he nods,

"You should really get to a hospital…" he starts but I interrupt him before he can finish his sentence.

"There is no need, I have had much worse and there is nothing life threatening," I say and he grumbles a little but obviously is used to such things from Sherlock so does not push the matter.

"I see you two are a perfect match," he says under his breath and we both raise our eyebrows at this comment.

"Thank you for fixing me up," I say in reply deciding to ignore his comment.

"Seven… no, eight men," Sherlock says immediately and I nod, "random attack," he says now although before I speak I can tell he is not so sure of that himself.

"I don't think so," I say,

"You were targeted? By who?" John asks looking shocked which makes me smile, how can a man who had spent his life in the forces or with Sherlock be shocked by such trivial things.

"I believe so," I say quietly.

"Then I was right, it is a serial," Sherlock says and I can hear the slight smirk in his voice without having to even look at him.

"How do you figure that exactly?" John asks and I decide that I would butt in this time,

"I've only been in London… back in the country for four days not long enough to make any real enemies," a snort of sorts from both men interrupts me and I glare a little at them, "not long enough for someone who keeps to herself to make real enemies," I amend. "Anyway, I have been very careful to keep myself hidden since arriving home and the only connection I have made is with Sherlock, it goes to reason that whoever killed the man we saw earlier was watching and orchestrated an attack," I finish and they both stare at me for a while.

"You've picked the wrong flat mate if you want a quiet life," John says eventually and I'm not really sure what to say and am incredibly grateful when Sherlock breaks from his trance and speaks.

"What do you think?" he says to me and I smile a little as I realise that he is treating me as an equal, well as much as he is capable of, rather than the way I have seen him speak to others.

"They were hired in a rush, not a regular deal, a gang of sorts, there were only two who didn't run off when I started fighting back. The leader he, I'm pretty certain he thinks I'm dead…"

"But clearly…" Sherlock tries to interrupt but I hold up a hand to stop him and ignoring the noise of amazement from John as he obeys me I continue.

"He is a narcissist and bully with no brains, he believes he has killed me, I broke his jaw and his wrist so if you search for anyone who has admitted themselves to a hospital with those injuries you'll find him. The one who hired them though… I don't know if they know I am alive still," I finish and they both stare at me for a while.

"We treat it as a murder then," Sherlock says and I nod already reading his plan, or at least parts of it, no matter how good I am, he is better and I was not fool enough to think otherwise.

"I don't understand," John begins,

"Of course you don't," Sherlock grumbles and before John can argue back I attempt a distraction.

"How long?" I ask him and he turns a confused expression to me.

"Sorry?" he asks and I smile, only half listening to Sherlock on the phone to Lestrade in the corner.

"How long will I be out for?"

"Oh," his face clears as I guide him back to his comfort zone, "The conclusion and bruises will take a few days to fade, the ribs though they'll take longer,"

"They are cracked then?" I ask and he nods in clarification.

"Two of them, it will take a month at least to heal them," I sigh heavily at this news and nod my head a little,

"Okay," I whisper and he smiles a little causing me to frown at him.

"I see you are going to be about as good at being a patient as he is," John says gesturing with his head in Sherlock's direction and I am once again struck dumb as I struggle to find a reply or comment to make. It strikes me actually that I have been left groping for an answer more in the last few minutes than I had in many years. Luckily, Sherlock made a sound of glee and hung up the phone at this point distracting us both.

"Lestrade will be here within the hour,"  
"Why?" John asks and I glance at Sherlock somehow knowing that he would relish the chance to tell the story despite the facial expression and sound of exasperation. I could see it in his eyes.

"He'll bring a full team with him but only minimal people will be allowed in,"

"Right…" John urges him on very nearly making me giggle but even this slight movement causes a rush of pain through my chest.

"Jenson will be pronounced dead and then you John will be taken to the morgue in a body bag to keep up the pretence should the killer have been watching her come home," Sherlock continues and I nod along, so far I had been right in terms of what I had imagined his plan to be.

"And…"

"Then we wait, you and I, John will continue investigating and Jensen will lie low here while she recovers," I make a noise of disapproval in my throat at this ignoring the looks they give me. I know I would have to recover but the idea of being helpless and held up is more than a little frustrating. Plus I still felt more than a little humiliated at being beaten both by the group of men and by Sherlock, he had been right after all, I had been beaten both physically and intellectually and I was mad about it.

"You fought well Jensen," Sherlock says quietly a few minutes later when John has gone down to make some tea.

"How do you know that?" I ask sulkily despite the fact that I knew he could tell by the bruises and cuts on my arms, legs and hands that I had both blocked and hit several targets and his expression indicates as much.

"I hate being helpless, I have spent the last… I have spent a long time getting to a point where I would not have to be powerless and here I am at the mercy of people again," I grumble and he sighs looking uncomfortable.

"John taught me a while ago that needing others… trusting a select few… it is actually something that can make us stronger," he says quietly and I look up at him unable to move for a moment as I see the torment in his eyes as he says it, a torment that I know is reflected in my own. The moment is broken when he huffs out a breath and smirks slightly, "of course that being said he has almost got me killed, almost died himself, almost had everyone else close to us killed and I have had to fake my own death to keep them safe," he says and I smile at him.

"With considerably more finesse than I am doing right now," I comment and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"You researched me?"  
"You knew I would," I reply simply and he nods with another smirk, of course he had known but I couldn't help the little thrill that ran through me as he looked down at me with something akin to pride in his expression. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that, fear and awe maybe but not this, and I had forgotten how much I liked it. The moment was broken again when the door opened and Lestrade strode in with John and a couple of other men with him.


End file.
